Where the hell is global warming - -
that mammoth delusional myth of the past that immersed us in unrelenting spasms of doomsday trepidation?
It has metamorphosed into the safely flexible and cunningly diverse quasi-scientific absurd mishmash called climate change.
Stay calm and be merciful. I'm merely infiltrating an innocent semblance of reason into a world gone completely mad.
Impossible for some to see. Improbable for others to comprehend.
I am most comfortable when I go against the obstinate grain of clueless society.....when I march to the beat of a different drummer...
.......when I'm in bed with Henry Thoreau (metaphorically speaking, of course).
I refuse to wear the burdensome mask of absurdity.
Ponder that for a moment. You'll eventually get it.
Have I been drinking homemade wine again?
Heck, it's all I've got, comrade. It clears the mind. Steadies the nerves. Quells the perpetual agony of this shit-ass life that our merciful Maker burdened us with.
Does that shock you? Well, then, methinks you shock too easily.
Have some wine. Lighten up. Mellow. Mellow. I never claimed to be Pollyanna.
It's an innocent opinion. But my innocent opinions have (very) often made enemies.
It's best not to have any opinions....Or especially opposing opinions......
Climate change??
Climate change has suddenly and rudely transformed spring into winter.
Goodbye, blossoms. Hello, frost.
I'm in bed shivering and listening to icy rain pelting the window. Listening to frigid winds race through trembling forest trees.
Listening to the plaintive hoots of nearby discontented owls and irrational howls of distant coyotes.
I'll be getting extra blankets and hot cups of tea. I'll be forcing the faulty, fickle furnace to work.
I have plenty of supplies for this new and unexpected Ice Age. I went shopping in town yesterday.
It'll take two weeks for me to recover from that perilous journey.
Too much wine converts into Truth Serum.
I'm not here to educate you or entertain you. I'm here to express my thoughts. To inundate you with my inner-self.
Truth to tell: I despise every aspect of living in this diabolical place. It isn't just the weather. It's a thousand other things.
Is it spring or winter where you are? Do you see an eventual summer on the distant horizon?
No need to answer that.
Most people who read my blog are reluctant to comment. They proceed with extreme caution and the safety of anonymity - - like a twelve-year-old reading a dirty novel that came in a plain brown wrapper.
So be it. At least you're here.
Perhaps you care. Perhaps.
Read my previous post. I was sober when I wrote it.
